


Flights of Fancy

by OrangeBlossoms



Category: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 11:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12747096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeBlossoms/pseuds/OrangeBlossoms
Summary: Evening flights are more enjoyable with company.





	Flights of Fancy

**Author's Note:**

> My time has been incredibly fragmented the past few weeks. I have other longer things in the works (including work on multi-chapter things...), but it's harder to do with a more compartmentalized schedule. So, here's some short fluff for a pairing I haven't written yet. Maybe I'll have something more during the upcoming weeks.

The light of the fireflies kindled and faded in measured intervals as she made it past the flickering confines of the camp’s lights. After a rehash of a mid-battle argument, Innes had told her not to wander far in a tone that set her teeth on edge. It made her want to hop on Achaeus and arc past the ashen light of the waning moon with a defiant shout to anyone watching below.

As she stood in a patch of grass that had been trampled by the army as they set up camp, she listened to the sounds of crickets in hopes of regaining her bearing. Evenings outside of Frelia were balmier and while she knew sinister things lurked in the darkness, there was a calm to their surroundings that goaded her into further considering a nighttime escape.

She thought about going to Eirika to vent and laugh about the frustrating inconveniences that were brothers, but Eirika was too even-tempered about anything related to siblings. Fathers were a subject that was completely off the table unless Eirika herself brought it up and while Tana desperately hoped for success in their mission, she dreaded the eventual conversation waiting for her when she returned home. Brothers were certainly safer territory.

Tana predicted her friend would listen with a patient regard and offer well-meaning advice that would ultimately leave her feeling chastened even if that wasn’t the intention. In any case, that princess from Rausten seemed determined to usurp her position as Eirika’s closest friend. At first, the way she rode in with seemingly little regard for anyone’s feelings beyond her own had irritated her. Tana was later amused at how someone so self-important could hang on Eirika’s words. The reckless way in which she would dash off to do something foolishly heroic, somehow everything working out in the end, was also a kind of diversion as it didn’t seem to matter if the battle was hard won or a more trifling affair. The princess of Rausten behaved as if she were invincible. 

She had teased Eirika about the fawning nature of L’Arachel’s advances once as her pegasus trotted alongside Eirika’s ivory steed during a sunny day’s ride to their next destination. It might not have been fair, Eirika certainly had enough to keep her preoccupied, but a little playfulness couldn’t hurt. She left her completely bemused as she took off into the sky to fly lazy circles above the rank and file, laughing to herself. 

As she reflected, thoughts of flight tempted her, but instead of indulging in her whims, she uprooted some grass with a firm kick of her boot and found the action equally dissatisfying. If only there were some rocks she could punt in a refreshingly unprincesslike manner. She could pick up a stone and let it fly with a trained heave from her javelin throwing arm and maybe an onlooker would respond with a murmur of appreciation. She was at least as good as Vanessa at some tasks now that she had live skirmishes under her belt and not just practice drills, which, in her experience weren’t always as strictly enforced during the former time of peace. Maybe if she had been more like Eirika with a kinder heart, a cooler head and and edge of daring, she would have better results in her endeavors.

When a shadow moved in the dark, she yelped and took a defensive stance, aware she had left her lance in her tent. A stubborn part of her was unwilling to call for help unless she was certain the situation was dire. She relaxed when she recognized the figure, tension draining in a long exhale. Some of her annoyance drifted off into the night as well. 

“Marisa,” she said, face smoothing. Her shoulders slackened even as she retained a semblance of poise. 

The reply was delayed, but she expected that now. They were friends, but Marisa was still withdrawn, her speech ponderous. If Tana was patient, she would be rewarded with some carefully thought out observations and possibly even a personal anecdote or two.

Rumors ran rampant through the army about the terrifying young swordswoman who had been trained since childhood for the mercenary life. She feared no foe and death walked beside her. Tana knew better now and tried not to smile at the contrast. She had learned that Marisa did not appreciate much in the way of jabs when she had come the closest to complaining that Tana had ever observed. Marisa had sought her out for advice and self-consciously asked her how to be sociable. Tana had helped her with some lines only to find her sulking a day later over disheartening results. Marisa was tight-lipped about any details beyond that and Tana knew when not to push. She had attempted to cheer her up and told her stories of trainee days foibles, sometimes implicating other knights in her tales. 

Marisa was still as tottering in personal interactions as she was proficient on the battlefield. Tana supposed excellence in some areas could lead to deficiencies in others, but even in their short friendship Marisa had improved. It was a subtle reminder not to lord what came easy to her over others. She had been on the receiving end of similar attitudes often enough.

“Tana,” Marisa said, inclining her head in greeting, making no mention of the start of the encounter. Tana chose to interpret the omission as a kindness. While her interpersonal skills were lacking, her perception was not. Marisa was always at the ready, swords at her side and Tana felt somewhat sheepish to be caught unarmed.

“What are you doing at the edge of camp?” Tana asked, almost echoing a warning similar to the one she had received from Innes. Another pause hung in the air as Marisa searched for the words she wanted.

“It’s… peaceful.”

Tana nodded, considering the sentiment for a moment.

“It is,” she agreed, her irritation fading further until it blinked out of existence like the staggered lights of the fireflies. 

A boisterous laugh pierced the dark as the sounds of camp swelled for a moment before once again falling into a dull murmur. That axe wielding vassal of L’Arachel’s and one of Ephraim’s men had been on watch as she crept past a fire to the outskirts. They were discussing art of all things. 

“I always thought you would be early to bed, early to rise,” Tana said, deciding to strike up a conversation. “You train in the morning, do you not?”

She could just make out her face in the cool light of the moon and could see her mulling it over. When they had talked before, her brows would knit and it was as if each word was dragged through water before it could be said, slowly, laboriously and with an uncomfortable and unnecessary additional weight. Over time, the interludes grew more contemplative and less strained. 

“Yes,” she admitted, “In the morning and the evening, if I am able to do so.”

Tana considered her bed and its warmth in the dawn hours when dew still clung to the grass. Perhaps it wasn’t excellence that she sought for herself. Innes also spent time training, his rivalry with Ephraim spurring him on to greater heights. Did she need something like that? Was that the road to fulfillment? She soured a bit at the thought. Strength wouldn’t guarantee freedom. Not for her. And a rival? Her opinion of Eirika was affectionate and, at times, aspirational, but not contentious. She preferred it that way. She had heard enough from Innes of his one-sided rivalry to not wish to impose the same on anyone else.

“Why do you wish to train so dutifully? We do battle often enough,” she asked. 

“To best my father. He was one of the greatest swordmasters of all of Jehanna,” she said, words flowing smoothly. A ready answer, oft studied, it seemed. She recognized the past tense for what it was and felt grateful for the family she did have even if they frustrated her to no end.

“And then what?” 

There had once been a warning about lofty goals and the pursuit of them. 

_I’m not a good source to talk of such things._

“And then anything is possible,” she said. 

“Why not now?”

Marisa frowned slightly at the question.

“What do you mean?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“You are already extraordinary. Why not continue learning, but leave room for other pursuits? Surely with your level of dedication you could accomplish any number of things. You could go anywhere you want. Do anything you’d like! When we are done with demons and continental unrest, that is,” she said with a casual shrug, making light of their uncertain future. Part of her wondered if they could even hope to see the resolution of the latter during her lifetime.

Marisa was silent again though this time there was that uncomfortable weight to it, the warm air no longer refreshing.

“I’m… a mercenary. It’s what I do and who I am. Is it different for a princess?”

“It’s far worse!” Tana exclaimed, causing Marisa to snap her head up and look at her. She dug the heel of her boot in the bare patch of earth she had kicked earlier. “I mean, in a way… Anyway, Innes says I’m a pampered castle brat and it’s true that I’ve never wanted for necessities, but you could wake up and decide tomorrow you wanted to be… a blacksmith! The best blacksmith in all of Magvel. I think you could do it, if the inspiration struck you!”

“I don’t understand,” she said, shifting where she stood. Tana ran her hand through her hair and sighed as she contemplated a response. She wasn’t entirely certain what she meant either.

“The fact of the matter is that I will always be a princess first. I think Eirika knows that’s true for herself as well and, quite frankly, I don’t know what the princess of Rausten thinks. I suppose it would be in her nature to reinvent what being a princess means, if the responsibilities didn’t suit her. Is that what I should do?”

“There are consequences for anything we choose,” Marisa said after some time.

Tana’s mouth was dry and her limbs were heavy, the day suddenly too long. 

“Yes, I suppose you are correct,” she murmured and her earlier impulse returned as she stood next to Marisa in the dark, the only sounds from camp were hushed conversations as more people turned in for the night. “It’s not that… I want to run away though I suppose I already did that.” She chuckled softly to herself. “I just want what I do to feel worthwhile or even simply recognized” she said, grumbling the last part, “Or-or not cast into doubt! It feels so… naive or… or selfish to say it like that. But your training gives your days meaning, yes?”

Again, that pensive frown as she mulled over the words. 

“Meaning…” she started to say, grasping for understanding, “I only hope to improve, yes.”

“Agh! I don’t know what is wrong with me then!” Tana said with a smile, tugging on a braid. 

Marisa stood still at her side, frozen in a predatory stance like a cat waiting to pounce though Tana suspected it signaled discomfort. She briefly toyed with the idea of poking her shoulder to see if she would uncoil all at once, but in the end decided it would be best to keep her fingers and hand in tact. On impulse, she turned to her and made a proposal. “Would you like to go flying? Right now? Tonight?”

Marisa looked at her and then to the side, lips opening and then closing again.

“It would be quick! If anyone finds out, I’ll take the blame. Besides, what do I have to fear with the the most skilled swordswoman of Jehanna at my side?”

She flashed a smile and took one of Marisa’s hands in her own. Marisa was still wound tight and the tease elicited the desired response.

“I-I’m _not_ though!” Marisa hissed with an agitated excitement. There was a small thrill that passed through her at the intensity of the reply. 

“Ah, but you will be,” she said, leaning close as if imparting a secret, “It might as well be set in stone! What do you say? It’s good to take time for other things.”

“I…” she started, pulling back slightly, but allowing the hold on her hand. Tana waited as the night noises filled the lull, camp mostly silent.

“If… if it is short,” Marisa eventually said, reverting to her more solemn tone, eyes trained on the ground. Tana was tempted to touch her cheek to feel if she was flushed. She tugged at her hand instead, face splitting into a pleased grin.

“It’s settled then! Come on! The next bit will be a challenge! I’ve only snuck out a few times before, but never with an accomplice! Keep an eye out for Frelians,” she whispered, full of energy again. “They’ll be the first to tattle.”

Perhaps she could work on a reputation that would truly scandalize. Running off to fight a war, midnight rides with mercenary swordswomen… what mischief could she get herself into next? She wasn’t entirely serious. She couldn’t be. This was a dalliance with rebellion at best, but even if they did get found out, she was more interested in asking forgiveness than permission. 

Marisa’s hand was warm in her own as she allowed herself to be pulled along, her free hand still on the hilt of her sword.

_Ever vigilant._

They snuck around the temporary structure holding the pegasi and past a sleeping trainee. She smiled again as Marisa gazed at her mount with a look of wonder and appreciation. They had been fighting together more of late and Marisa had been ferried across battlefields on Achaeus’ back. This would be different. There wouldn’t be archers to worry about and they would return at the first sign of fiends. Already set on her course, she helped Marisa up, securing her before hopping up herself. She scratched the part of Achaeus’ neck that she could reach and felt him lean into the touch.

“You ready, boy?” she asked and his ears flicked in her direction. 

The white of his coat, while a form of camouflage in the snowy terrain of Frelia, would make them stand out if they took to the air too close to camp. They made it to the edge of a nearby forest before she signaled to him to take flight. She held in a whoop as they climbed, feeling Marisa hold her tight on impulse. Tana had noticed that Marisa was a more nervous flier than Eirika, but she was gladdened to see her lips turn up when she glanced back, their hair blowing behind them as Achaeus raced through the sky. She drove them high and then low, nearly skimming the treetops, exhilarated to have an audience. Marisa’s tentative smile was lovely and Tana thought she would like to see her laugh one day. In a way, it was more rewarding to coax such a reaction from someone so reserved and it only served to make her silently promise herself to try to do it again. 

When she felt Marisa begin to shiver, the height and the breeze taking their toll, she reluctantly turned her mount around to land back by the edge of the trees. She helped Marisa down and noticed as she walked gingerly next to her, not used to flying for extended periods. 

“If you plan to get up early for training, you should get some sleep,” Tana said, still coming down from the the flight's buoying effect on her emotions, “But let’s do this again sometime!”

Marisa gave a shy nod in response as if she was attempting to restrain herself. Tana paused in her departure as Marisa shook her head, clearly struggling with something. Before Tana could ask after her well-being, Marisa spoke.

“I… I enjoyed it. I would like to go flying again,” she said, bowing slightly before turning on her heel and marching towards her tent. 

Tana grinned as she watched her retreating figure. She quite enjoyed it as well. 

The next day both her and Achaeus spent most of their time in air, her head in the clouds in more ways than one as she attempted to keep herself from slumping in her saddle. When she was alert enough, she made plans for a repeat of the previous evening.


End file.
